


yarrow

by ikijai



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Dorks, F/M, Gen, Post-Season/Series 01, Time Jump, frank and david's partnership is incredible ??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 03:59:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12762693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikijai/pseuds/ikijai
Summary: Thanksgiving with them would've been too difficult last year. This year, things are different.





	yarrow

**Author's Note:**

> This show is/was/will be incredible. I don't deserve it.

Pete Castiglione is a free man. Frank Castle is dead.

This is what he knows—what he desperately tells himself over and over in his underwhelmed mind until it's permanently ingrained—as he knocks on the Lieberman’s door for what he knows has to be the thousandth time in the past year.

The dumb, lopsided grin to his partner paired with those wild tresses that’re somehow always all over the place is what he’s met with. There’s the tiniest moment of silence that passes before David does what he does best. _Talks_.

Deep down, Frank knows that he’s missed the sound of that obnoxious, intelligent timbre. Even if he’s too proud to say it out loud and it's been weeks.

“The kids keep calling you Pete, you know. They talk about you a lot. My wife, though—she goes back and forth,” David utters, bright eyes all warm and pissing Frank off with their inherent understanding. “Don’t know what I should be calling you, to tell the truth.”

“Just don’t call me a dead man, yeah?” Frank jokes before giving David a barely-there push, trying his _damndest_ to say thank you with just his keen, practiced gaze.

And he wants to be a good man like _Pete_. Wants to walk in with a smile and bring in war stories to tell the kids. But he doesn’t know if he’s prepared for that yet.

“Hey,” David whispers, disturbingly blue eyes narrowing in inquiry. And it pisses Frank off just how much his partner _understands_. “Don't push yourself, okay? You didn't have to do this, but I'm glad you decided to.”

It’s then he realizes he’s still outside on the porch, icy wind tingling his skin until he doesn’t feel it at all. The war inside wages in all different types of ways.

“Yeah, yeah,” Frank utters in what he hopes is a nonchalant way, stepping all the way into the warmth that is this house that's too familiar at this point. “Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

The two of them walk past the door and to the parlor, past an open copy of _Life of Pi_ downward on the table that makes this place feel distinctly like a person’s home. The tv is on with the volume turned down.

“I, uh,” Frank clears his throat, but his voice inevitably sounds insecure to his own ears. David peers up from whatever shiny thing he’d been tinkering with between his nimble fingers. “I invited Karen, too. If that's okay.”

The wide, shit-eating grin that spreads across David’s face is enough to make Frank want to jump over the table and punch it into disappearance.

“Don't even think about it, smartass.”

“What?” David defends immediately, throwing his hands up with feigned innocence. “I didn't say a thing.”

“That's right, you didn’t. And _you won't_ ,” Frank says, stretching his knuckles on the table in a way that only makes David snort to himself.

This man has watched Frank tear people to pieces without hesitance and isn't intimidated.

Frank thinks it's a smile that tugs at his upper lip, disappearing in the instant it showed itself. This is how he knows that in the past year, they've transitioned from just partners to _friends_ in the oddest definition of the word.

“Okay, tough guy.” David pats his shoulder despite it all. “Let's go, the kids’ve been waiting. Turkey’s almost done, too.”

 

                                 ..

 

“Pete!” the kids yell as he steps into the kitchen, shrugging out of his jacket in the process.

He doesn't mind the name they use.

“Hey sweetheart,” he says when David’s daughter wraps him up in a hug that makes him feel like someone’s _uncle_.

David’s wife greets him next, pulling his face down to press a kiss to his forehead. “We’re glad you could make it this time.” There's zero judgment to her smooth voice.

“Yeah,” Frank utters. “I am too, Sarah. It smells delicious.”

“That’s all David,” she says fondly, peering at her spouse from where he stands inches behind Frank in the kitchen doorway. “I’m nearly positive the turkey’s the only edible thing we’ll be having tonight.”

“Quit it,” David intervenes before Frank does. He walks into the kitchen and pulls his wife to his side, whispering something Frank doesn’t try to strain his ears to pick up on.

Things take a turn for the worst when the inevitable discussion about his private life begins.

“Frank invited his—” David stops dead in his tracks when Frank gives him a death glare, but he only smiles like the prick he is and keeps talking. “Invited his _special someone_ tonight.”

“Oh?” Sarah utters the single word, turning to him with a question in her eyes and Frank fucking  _swears_ he’ll kill David when tonight is over.

“Just a friend from, uh. _Work_ ,” he decides, ignoring the heat flooding his face that he knows they probably detect. If _work_ means keeping him off death row and _defending his innocence_ , it's true. “Known her for a while. I think you'll like her.”

Frank lets the scent of what he thinks is pie distract his thoughts.

“Karen’s got good taste, huh?” David whispers to his wife.

Then the two of them are talking about him and his _plans_ like he isn't a yard away. _Of course_ the prick's told his wife about Karen.

“Yeah, yeah,” Frank utters as he takes a seat at the table. There’re enough plates out that he thinks they already knew. “Just pretend I'm not here. No big deal.”

“They're always like that,” Zach sighs, scrolling through his phone while he talks.

The kid is inches taller since Frank last saw him—voice deepening too. It’s a bittersweet type of thing. The type of thing where his own kids never got to make it to puberty. A year ago, tears would’ve stung his eyes at the thought. Today, he pushes it down and plays cards with kids that aren’t his own.

“Will you teach me poker, Pete?” Zach asks out of nowhere, young eyes bright like his dad’s. “Dad won't. Says it's useless and will just turn you bankrupt.”

“Your old man knows what he’s talking about,” Frank utters, thankful and nerve wracked at the same time when the doorbell interrupts them.

“I'll get it!” David’s daughter yells before she's skipping to the front door.

Frank doesn't know why his face is so warm. He sees Karen every week these days. But somehow, it's different. Different with other people he gives a damn about around, too.

When Karen walks through the door, Frank swears the breath is knocked directly out of him. She’s incredible, all dressed up and making the rest of the world fall short.

“Karen Page,” David says, as if testing out her name. “I’ve heard a lot about you from this one,” he says, nodding toward Frank at the table. “Though I suppose you’ve heard about me too. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

David’s being normal, even a little _too_ interested. Frank doesn’t know what to make of it except to pull her away from him and into a brief hug.

  
“You’re only about twenty minutes late, Kare,” he teases against her cheek where he presses a kiss to the warm skin. Pretends not to notice the way the warmth deepens.

“Traffic was terrible,” she utters, shaking her head in apology to everyone in the kitchen. She sets a tinfoil-covered dish on the table without describing what it is. “I swear, my taxi driver just passed driver’s ed.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sarah says with a smile that makes Karen physically relax at Frank’s side. “Dinner is just about done.”

 

                                  ..

 

Dinner goes well. It goes better than Frank thought it would. There’s a phantom pain that still thrums under his skin, but it’s easy to ignore with Karen’s warmth inches away and shared stories occupying the kitchen. It’s been a while since he’s been together with this many people.

The tune of _family_ , _home_ , _together_ plays like a mantra in the back of his mind. And now, he’s anything but underwhelmed.

Occasionally, he still see’s blood-splattered plastic horses, painted with wrath. Still hears the music that’s turned into the theme of doomsday. But it isn’t nearly as taunting as it’d been. The war inside isn’t the only thing he desperately holds onto anymore. David and David’s family and Curt’s discussion therapy make sure of that. _Karen_ does.

He just sips his wine and tries not to think about how Zach laughs just the way Frankie used to or the way Sarah will occasionally lean over and kiss David’s temple like it’s no big deal. And _goddamn_ , he wants it too. He wants the normal tenderness. Wants the mutual trust and importance that can only come from that type of person.

“You’re like a journalist, right?” Zach asks Karen eventually.

It’s then Frank recalls just how many times the woman's been on tv. He's glad for the distraction.

“Something like that, yeah,” Karen smiles, looking proud that the kid is finally talking to her.

“I saw you on tv after—”

“Zach,” David interrupts, sounding more like the bad-cop parent than usual. “Don’t pry. It’s not nice.”

The kid utters a _sorry_ under his breath before ducking his head in shame. It’s been a year since Frank was nearly killed by the people who betrayed him, but it’s been a year since _other things_ too. Karen knows it better than anybody. Frank knows she was there even though he wasn’t.

“Don’t worry about it,” Karen mediates. “It’s a part of the job. _Danger on every corner_ and all that.”

Somehow, Karen’s palm makes its way onto Frank’s knee and it’s so _normal_ that he doesn’t know what to do with the warmth spreading through his entire being. He’s infatuated with her words and the way she talks, the way she says his name. Like it’s only him and them. Like it doesn’t matter whether what she’s telling the rest of the table is private or not. _This is okay_ , he thinks. He knows it is. Could get used to if he didn’t have too many people to protect.

Peripherally, he sees David watching with that dumb twinkle in his eyes. His partner winks and gives him a thumbs up when he notices him noticing. Frank still wants to punch him when this is over.

They have dessert when dinner is done—Sarah’s pie and Karen’s homemade pudding. The kids go upstairs eventually, which leaves the table to talk about more grown up things.

Frank does a double take when Sarah says, “How long have you two been dating?”

“Uh,” Frank utters just as Karen says, “Oh, we aren’t, um, _together_ that way.”

They’re half-way through the fourth bottle of wine and Frank knew it was inevitable. But he’s still unprepared.

“What she said,” he utters, face impossibly warm. _God_ , how’d he go from a known, dangerous killer to _this_?

Thank anything up in the sky that Karen tries to diffuse the situation. “David, you spend a lot of time with Frank, don't you?"

David looks almost as shocked as Frank feels inside. “Well, he fixes up our car occasionally. And the pipes upstairs. And, uh,” David thinks outwardly, lip pulled between his teeth. “The tv sometimes too. Thanks for that, by the way,” David turns to Frank, clearing his own throat as he downs more wine than he needs to. Most people would think he’s drunk based on his personality alone.

“That’s good,” Karen says. “That he has another friend to spend time with, I mean.”

“Yeah, well,” David keeps going. “Someone has to stitch him up when he gets his ass kicked.”

“Hey, _dumbass_ ,” Frank says, pointing directly at the prick. “You watch it before I kick _your_ ass.” But he’s only teasing and as much as he wants to, he doesn’t mean it.

“You know,” David utters lowly. “You threaten me quite a bit for someone who’s never actually kicked my ass, Frankie. Not once in a year—did you know that, Karen? It’s difficult to think people take you seriously when you don’t pull through.”

Not including that time he practically tortured him in that basement, he thinks.

Frank just snatches the wine bottle from his partner’s nearly trembling hand, trying and failing to disguise the upward turn to his lips. In this place, he doesn’t think of Billy Russo or William Rawlins or all those men he killed. Kandahar. He doesn’t have to.

“The two of them are worse than kids, I swear,” Frank hears Sarah whisper to Karen, shaking her head back and forth until both women are trying not to laugh.

He wants to be pissed, but catches the twinkle in Karen’s eyes and can't help but to let out his own throaty laugh. David joins in a little while after that, laughing too hard for his own good.

“No more drinks,” his wife scolds halfheartedly, but she kisses him anyway when he turns to peer down at her.

 

                                  ..

 

It’s dark when Frank steps outside with David to check out the latest thing he didn’t know how to fix on his own. This time, it’s the power panel in the backyard. But Frank knows it’s just an excuse to talk one-to-one. They didn't even bring tools with them.

“How’ve you really been doing, Frank? You been going to those discussion groups?”

“Yeah, David,” Frank sighs. The temperature is below freezing and they can see their breath sticking to the icy air. All they can do to keep warm is shove their hands deep into their pockets. “Don’t worry 'bout it.”

“It’s good for you. I can tell.”

“Thanks,” Frank utters. He can’t even be upset. It’s the truth. “How’s Dinah?” David’s been keeping tabs on her in his own odd way, but he asks anyway. He owes the woman his life.

He knows some patients can't be saved. He's _been_ one of them. But Dinah Madani isn't just some patient. Whatever they throw at her next, he can only hope she keeps her promise to shoot him dead if he shows up, too.

“Doing good. Incredible, actually, at least from what I’ve been watching—”

“God, you weird motherfucker,” Frank interrupts with an ironic snort. David’s too drunk to stop himself from being an idiot. “Tell me you didn’t put some type of wire-tap in her office.”

The lack of words is all the answer Frank needs. Some things will never be different. It’s been a year. A year since David got his family back and Frank got an ounce of peace. But still, some things are just part of an indestructible pattern. He understands that better than anyone. He knows his partner does, too.

 "You okay, too?" Frank whispers.

“Yeah. Huh,” David begins after a while, a certain darkness spreading over his previously jovial expression. “No more undercover operations. Fake-out deaths?”

“Not for a while." Frank inhales. “You gotta forget about all that, though.”

There’s a period of silence where David doesn’t talk, but Frank can tell something is deeply troubling him.

“She watched me die _twice_ , Frank. Not once. _Twice_. How do you forget something like that? I mean, how does a person put that out of their mind?”

Frank sighs to himself, and he knows it would be wrong to tell his partner anything but the truth. “You don’t. You just try not to let it kill you, okay?”

The other doesn't look up from his fingers.

“ _Promise_ me, David. You won’t turn into a basement dweller again. Those people in there,” Frank whispers fiercely, pointing to the white house where his wife is talking to Karen and his kids are sleeping peacefully for the first time in a while. “They need you to do your _job_. _Keep_ it together.”

“I know. I promise.”

“That’a boy,” Frank utters, gripping the back of David’s neck and pulling him in for a momentary embrace they could both use. A year ago, they were dead to the world. Now, Frank hasn’t so much as touched a weapon in over a week.

“There’ll always be a threat out there,” David whispers when they pull apart.

“We don’t have to think about that. Not tonight, yeah?” Frank tells him, but he’s looking through the window into the kitchen.

“Karen’s really important to you, huh?”

“David, I told you—”

“ _Uh uh_ ,” his partner interrupts. “You don’t get to do that. I _saw_ you two in there. She looks at you like the world, man. And that's tonight with us. You compared her to my wife. You compared her to _yours_. When’ll you take what you deserve?”

 _Shit_ , there's nothing Frank can think to say. David knows more than he lets on, and it only took him being drunk to spill his wisdom.

“That obvious, huh?”

“I would say so, yeah,” David utters before rubbing his palms together. “You tell her yet?”

“I'm working on it.”

David nods up and down, but he doesn't look to keen on Frank’s response. To tell the truth, he looks kind of disappointed.

“You once told me people need routine, Frank. They need some type of pattern to follow. _You do, too_.”

“Yeah, David. I know.”

“You’d kill for her, wouldn’t you?”

 _I did_ , Frank thinks. _I will_. But he’ll keep that to himself for now.

“I’d kill the whole damn world if that’s what it took,” Frank utters, voice more frozen than the liquid sticking to the dirty ground.

“ _Jesus fuck_ ,” David utters, peering at Frank like he wants to write down every word he’s just said. “You’re terrifying, you know that? But I think you might be my best friend.”

“The Punisher?” Frank tries. “Or Pete?”

“Doesn’t matter, man,” David whispers. He means it, too. _Goddamn_ , the piece of shit means it. “It’s almost ten, let’s get back inside, yeah?”

That’s what they do. The power panel remains untouched.

 

                                  ..

 

“That was nice,” Karen yawns while they’re driving back to her place. It’s nearly twelve and they’re both out of it. Frank wouldn't let her take a taxi back. Not when he could do it.

“It was. I’m sorry about David.” _Idiot_.

Karen only laughs. The type that’s deep in her throat and makes Frank’s heart tighten in his chest. “He’s pretty much the way I thought he’d be from what you described. Very friendly for a dead man,” she jokes. It’s the first time Frank doesn’t flinch at the term _dead man_. He’s used it numerous times. “The kids are sweet, though. His wife too.”

Things've been difficult, but the truth is that he feels more like Pete Castiglione everyday. 

 _People think that torture is pain_ , he'd said to David once. _It's not pain, it's time._

“Yeah. Yeah, they are.” He doesn’t tell Karen that David’s family took care of him just as much as he took care of them. Some things are unspoken because it should be that way.

He thinks about how they took him back even after they knew who he was. _What_ he was.

                                  ..

 

Twenty minutes later, they pull up to Karen’s place. Everyone’s lights are turned out. Everyone’s except for the one by Karen’s window where Frank can still see the flowers he’d given her over a year ago.

“Thanks for the invitation," she whispers, looking down at her hands shyly all of the sudden.

“Your other plans fell through,” Frank utters around the knot in his throat. He doesn't know why he's upset. He should be happy about tonight.

“But that isn’t why you asked me to come, is it?”

Frank takes a deep breath he knows won’t diffuse the unadulterated tension between them. “You know me too well.”

“You want to come inside?”

“I’m kind of drunk, Karen, y'know.”

“Me too,” she whispers, wiping a hand down her face as if to prove the point. “That was a dumb question, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know if you’ve ever asked me a dumb question.”

“Yeah, well. That makes precisely one of us.”

 _Precisely one of us_. The same words she’d thrown at him out by the water last year. The same words that’d torn into him worse than any physical injury ever did. That’s all it takes.

“I’ll come inside.” This time, thints are different. 

“Frank, I didn’t mean to—”

“ _You didn’t_ , Karen. It’s okay. I want to.”

As they walk, Frank looks up to the pitch black sky. There’s too much pollution to see the stars, but somehow, the darkness brings him peace.

When they’re inside, it’s like the tension from outside stayed there.

Karen pulls him into a hug that’s so tight he thinks his lungs will implode. He holds her back just as tight. They both need this. He doesn’t know whether it’s possessive or protective, but in this moment, he finds it difficult to give a damn.

He doesn’t know what to talk about, so he says something that’s been pinning itself to the back of his mind for a while.

“How’ve your friends been doing?” He doesn’t have to specify who he’s talking about. They both know.

“They’ve been better, trust me.”

“I do,” Frank utters before he realizes he said the words out loud.

Karen’s usually expressive eyes go dark for an instant, but he notices it. He always does. He can’t stop thinking about how dangerous he is and how much danger _she’s_ in just by knowing him. Since the start, it’s been that way. Most days, knowing that digs into parts he’d rather not have dug up and publically exposed.

“That dinner wasn’t for show,” Karen whispers. It feels like she’s yelling. “You give a damn about those people, I can tell.” She pauses for a moment, as if she’s wondering if what she's about to utter next is a good idea. “You give a damn about _this_.”

The _this_ is undefinable. It's  _them_ and it's nothing and it's the whole universe.

“If you want it, look the other way and I’ll disappear.”

“You know I don’t want that.”

“What _do_ you want, Karen?” Frank pushes. They’re up against the wall when she peers up into the eyes he knows are probably shot, bottom lip trembling until he knows he’s why.

“I want you to be okay. I don’t want you to be lonely and I want you to _admit_ that you don’t. To yourself if not anyone else.”

Frank thinks about what she says, breaths short and head pounding. No matter what he does, he doesn't seem to be able to make things work properly.

“I ain’t livin' in the dark no more,” he says, teeth tightly pressed together in a way that tells a different story. He’s good at spewing the opposite of the truth.

The silence between them says more than words ever did or ever will.

“When I thought you were dead,” Karen begins, voice trembling harder than her bottom lip. “That was _pain_. _That_ was loneliness. You should’ve tried to talk to me.”

“I know,” Frank whispers—against her temple this time. And he'll get down on his damn  _knees_ if that's what it takes to make her understand. “I fucked up, Karen. I was terrible.”

She goes on her toes to kiss the side of his face. It's more tender than he deserves. “That isn’t on _you_. The war’s over, Frank,” she whispers.

“I wish that were true, Karen. But this?” Frank points to his temple. He’s talking to talk, or he’s saying everything important. He doesn't know at this point.“ _This_ isn’t okay. I want it to be done just as much as you do, Karen. But it isn’t that simple. I wish it were."

“I can’t believe they didn’t put me away,” he whispers, tears dripping before he can wipe them. “Can’t believe they didn’t kill me for what I did. You nearly _died_ because of me. I can’t be okay with that. I _won’t_.”

Then it happens. Out of nowhere. Like a kick to the gut that he wants over and over. She’s _kissing_ him, deep and passionate. He kisses her back with just as much zeal, picking her up against the wall and letting himself feel it without the pain. He doesn’t even give a damn if she’s kissing him because she wanted him to stop talking or because they’re both drunk.

There’s an unfamiliar warmth spreading through his pounding chest. But it isn’t from pain or invisible demons. He doesn’t feel dead inside. He doesn't _want to_. Not today and not with Karen’s too-soft lips pressed into his dry ones, the tip of her tongue touching his in a way that ignites an undying spark inside. _Fuck_ , David knew it before he did. They all did.

“I'm toxic, Kare," Frank whispers against her lips. They're wet with tears and familiar and he doesn't want to ever stop kissing them.

“It's okay,” Karen whispers, fingers smoothing over his temples until he thinks he can breathe again. “I'm with you. It's _okay_.”

“Waited for this,” Frank utters, voice dropping in a way he’s unused to. Time doesn't exist in a place like this. For the first time in a while, he understands that he doesn't want it to.

“I did, too,” Karen whispers. He knows the tears blurring her pupils and dripping down her face aren’t dejected ones.

There's plenty of time now. He isn’t dead, not yet.


End file.
